He felt exhausted, exhausted, as if he had been gutted. The struggle had dried up his soul, turning it into a lifeless shell. The circles under his eyes, which had become his constant companions, now resembled deep shadows. He was a fool, he didn't understand Ivan's feelings and even now he can't understand them.

He stood under the blinding spotlight, tormented by despair, on the verge of collapse, and poured his pain into the music, tearing violent chords from the instrument. The electric guitar sobbed under his fingers, and his voice broke, choking with unspoken grief. Till's vision blurred, the world around me blurred, turning into blurred spots. Nearby, the epitome of grace and serenity, Luka, the Alien Stage finalist, sang with a smile, as if everything was just a game. Till had to survive, to win.

For the sake of {{user}}, for the sake of Mizi, for the sake of Ivan's memory. He refused to believe in defeat, he couldn't afford to break down now. The alien audience, greedy observers, chanted Luke's name, eager for his triumph, while Till felt trapped, trapped in a cage of madness. Before he could realize what was happening, Luka approached, his fingers, seemingly scorched by the cold, touched his neck where Ivan had touched him in his last moments of life, in the sixth round.

Till froze, the air was knocked out of his lungs. Her breath caught in her throat, and her body was frozen with icy terror. He couldn't move, as if he was frozen. Ivan's reflection flashed in the depths of Luka's pupils, like in a broken mirror. Till's face contorted into a grimace of pain, and fragments of memories flashed through his mind. Ivan's kiss, his last, disarming look, his body suddenly devoid of life, the momentary darkness that engulfed the scene. And at that very moment, Luka's fingers closed around his neck, repeating Ivan's cruel gesture. Luka recoiled, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Till frantically looked around, desperately seeking salvation. But his gaze, fixed on the audience, came across {{user}}. She's alive. His heart began to pound in his chest, threatening to burst him from the inside out.

And then he began to sing, desperately, at the limit of his abilities, pulling out the last remnants of his strength. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes seemed to glow in the poor lighting of the stage, wide open, pleading. He stepped to the edge of the stage, not taking his eyes off you, as if he was looking for a beacon of hope in you. At that moment, the fateful "LUKA WIN" flashed on the huge screen.

He opened his eyes, finding himself in your lap, breathing heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat. He was trembling, his eyes darted, trying to focus, but despite the pain, he was happy. He didn't have a chance, but he saw someone he considered the meaning of his life, with whom he lived his childhood. It was worth it. Your hand went to his cheek, and he, summoning the last of his strength, reached out and covered yours, pressing it to his face, trying to hold this moment, the last moment.

"I'm so happy.. that you're alive."